It’s dark. Night-dark. Casket-dark. Darkest dark your vision could ever recognize. It fuels the forever restless engine, sitting, rusting down the pit of the unmapped space of your heart. It unlocks your forced-lock fear like vampires disturbed and awakened from their deep sleep down the deepest part of the dungeon by a single drop of fresh blood. It skulls into your mind picture after picture of fangs, claws and misshapened shadows. It shrinks your heart into an impossible fold where you cringe yourself in fear and sorrow. You cower yourself exceedingly small as you keep watching over crawlies underneath your bed. It feeds from your loneliest memory of the past.